Okay, so according to various sources, cold water is the most efficient method for cleaning off blood. Why? I honestly don’t know. I just looked it up two minutes ago.
Oh? It also says here that bleach, baking soda, and, uh, “Enzymatic Stain Removers” would get them off nicely. Great. Where do I get some of that?
It also says that “time is of the essence,” so I should probably hurry up. So, here I am, scrubbing the blood off the stone paths and plant leaves. For some strange reason, the blots aren’t going away. Darn. What’s going on? I soaked my rags with cold water, so how come it’s not coming off?
I checked my phone again and scrolled a few more articles before stumbling across this fine print: “Don’t scrub. Instead, blot the stain with a clean cloth to absorb as much blood as possible.”
Damn.
So, I did just that. I think. Uhh… Can dirt absorb blood? Lots of them splattered on the trees, but also on the dirt and stone paths, too. Stone surfaces can be cleaned off, but I’ve never had to deal with dirt. Wait, scratch that. Actually, I’ve never properly cleaned off blood splatters. That belonged to other people. Yup. Just need practice.
Oh, god. I’m going insane. I’m starting to sound more nonchalant about this madness. Gosh, am I secretly a psycho? Maybe I am. Ugghhh, no, no, no. I’m just… logical in solving the current situation! That is all. Yeah…
This is so frustrating. By now, Asha would have gone to sleep, and I could at least get some naps in before the toilet must be scrubbed and dinner must be cooked. Well, I’m scrubbing something, I suppose.
It’s truly a novel concept that a demon can bite a human clean off, leaving no parts and no traces of them ever being eaten. Except for the blood stains, of course. But I bet Mr. BP ate them whole, ‘cuz I haven’t seen a head, arm, or organs anywhere. Hahaha… He must have been hungry…
I AM going insane.
I wonder if anyone heard screams in the neighborhood. I guess a ten-feet-tall monster running around eating people would be pretty noticeable. But for some reason, it’s pretty quiet around here. Wait. Oh, no. Did he eat them all? Oh, god.
Okay. Go away, thoughts. Shoo. I can’t comprehend this at the moment. First, I have to deal with the monster himself.
We stored him in the attic, wrapping his arms and legs with Christmas lights—Asha’s idea. She’s still guarding him while the guy’s passed out. And she wouldn’t budge from her station while Mommy was out removing evidence. I’d like to call her brave, but that was just plain idiotic. He could wake up and strangle her again; strings of Christmas lights wouldn’t do shit to him. But I guess I’m idiotic, too, for letting her stand guard. I needed to clean the blood first, then we could continue.
“Hey, Mom! FYI, he’s still passed out!” She said giddily, thumping her bat rhythmically on her hand.
She looks like she’s ready for war. Oh, my god, I just had the funniest thought: Asha’s eradicating demons in the fiery lake of Hell with just her plastic bat and bunny pajamas.
“Mommy? Are you okay?”
“... Huh?! Oh, yes. Sure. Totally okay!”
“Uhhh, okay… Oh! Oh! Did you get the Grimmoire? It might help!”
“What?! How’d you know I have one?” I gasped. I could’ve sworn I hid it away.
“Oh, I didn’t know. But judging from your reaction, you DO have one! Hee hee hee!”
How is this girl only six?
“Asha. I must warn you: That book is dangerous. Please don’t read it for the sake of your safety, okay, sweetheart?”
“Awwwww… I saw you reading it in your room. You were drawing funny-looking wacky things! Why didn’t you let me join, Mom? How come you get to do all the fun stuff?”
Ugh. I want to tell her so bad that I am not at all enjoying this. You know what I had to do? I had to dig up that dusty ancient Grimmoire from the depths of the basement, bring it up, and translate it into a recognizable language. It shouldn’t have taken long, because I am a genius witch of the Coven and also an adventurous whip-twirling archeologist who could read Latin! Right?
I wish.
For the record, Google Translate was pretty useful.
Ahem. Anyway. I took my notebook out and went through the checklist:
- Tie BP up
- Clean blood
- Get blood
- Draw the ritual
- Negotiate
- Maybe get him to leave and never come back
- Success
The rags dripped with blood as I put the bucket of red human fluid on the floor. Thank God, some of the blood hasn’t dried off completely, so I was able to squeeze some from the rags into the bucket.
Alright, let’s do this. I picked up a large brush, dipped it in blood, and began drawing the seven circles from the Grimmoire’s illustration. I made sure to cover the ground around Mr. BP, so it would enclose and trap him. Also, I quickly realized I am a terrible artist.
“Mommy, what’s that red paint?”
“You just answered your question.”
“No, I didn’t! It looked redder than my crayon!”
“Asha, it’s just red paint. Nothing to worry about.”
“Then why does it smell weird?”
I kept drawing the circles, ignoring her. Does blood even smell that weird? It just smells like… blood to me. Blood smells like blood! Right? Yeah, no. I have no clue.
“Mommy, the circle looked crooked. And you set it too far from him. He won’t be affected if it’s too far, you know?”
“Dear, please don’t distract Mommy, okay? I’m concentrating…”
“Where did you get the Grimmoire anyway?”
“I said I’m focusing, Asha.”
“Where did you get it? Where? Where? Where? Where? Where? Where, Mommy, where?”
Oh, for the love of Christ.
“I… just collect them, Asha. I bought it from someone. And I figured I might need the Grimmoire someday for… safety. They’re just… Gosh, why must I explain this to you, Asha? Please don’t stand in the circle, you might smear it on your pajamas.”
Oh, wait. I could get her with this.
“Asha! I just realized! Red paint will not come off your Super Bunny Man suit! So if you don’t wanna look and smell weird, you better not touch this reddish liquid! Otherwise, even Mommy can’t help you!”
“No! I don’t want to smell weird!”
“Why, then, you must stand far away. And let Madam Witch perform her sacred duties, pretty please, Mr. Super Bunny Man?”
“Noooooo… I don’t like Madam Witch. She’s pushy and doesn’t let me have fun…”
“Well, we can watch TV later, okay? I must do this first.”
I finished drawing seven circles, of which there was one big circle in the centre, with the other six swirling around it. Kind of. I’m no satanic illustrator.
Then there are some pentagrams? Uh, this one should restrict a demon’s movement, or so it says in the Grimmoire. I scribbled them hastily on the floor. It should work, though the stars looked more crooked than I thought. Man, I would make a lousy witch.
Lastly, the ritual needed candles. For the sake of safety, I did not buy any, fearing Asha would play with them. For now, lit matches with wood chips in old cans of Campbell’s will have to do.
“Mommy! Open the window! It smells like burned bacon!”
I opened the small attic window. The smoke smelled nostalgic, flying up to the sky freely. Its ethereal form soared among the lofty clouds. It’s mid-afternoon now, almost evening. Can we finish this ritual before dinner time? Ugh. We might have to eat instant noodles tonight.
“Alright, Asha, for this next part, can you please be quiet? I don’t want any distractions and say the wrong thing.”
“Roger, Madam Witch…” She pouted. She can be so cute and so frustrating sometimes.
“Alright, ahem.”
“Hear me, O Great Serpent of the Abyss.
Bear witness to this demon soul!
His is blackness, the very essence of evil.
But mine is pureness, the very essence of goodness!
He is unfit to walk among the blessed.
And with all of his being,
Take his feet and wings!
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
He will fly no more,
Envelop his body in your tail!
He will harm no more,
Bind him from the heavens!
He will sin no more.”
“Amen.”
The fire from the cans flickered slightly. Dust and soot flew in my face, and oh god— “Atchoo!”
“Did it work, Mom?”
“Quiet, sweetie.”
For a moment, dust flew around the circles. Quietness. I didn’t move an inch, and neither did Mr. BP. Oh, my god, did I fail? The instructions were so clear, though…
Then, out of nowhere, a piercing humming penetrated my ears. Owww. Oh, my god, it hurts! Oww. Is it working as intended? Who is humming? The tune was so loud I think my ears bled a little.
Then, the fire flickered out. The bloody circle seemed to seep toward Mr. BP, binding his mangled form in bloody lines and pentagrams. It even glowed bright red! Oh, my god, is it working?
A blinding flash flared from the centre. I quickly rushed to Asha to shield her eyes and looked away.
Then, like a phoenix rising from the ashes, he awoke.
Wait a minute, that sounded kinda cool. I should save that one for the future.
“HOLY SWEET VIRGIN FLUIDS OF MARY, HOO BOY, what the hell happened?" His shrewd voice was as piercing as the humming.
He looked around the attic, rapidly dislocating his neck to look at impossible angles. Ugh, actually, let’s ignore this. It’s hella creepy. Then, he twisted his neck to look straight at me.
“Oh. Hello…”
“Hi, Mr. BP…”
“... Ummm… So, Madeline. This is kinda awkward. But were we in the middle of something? I, uh, have quite the foggy memory.”
“You were strangling me.”
“Oh! Okay. Let’s continue. ARRGRRGHHHHH, COME HERE, BITCH!”
He went down on all fours and ravenously crawled straight at me. Luckily, the circles stopped him in his tracks, forming a spherical prison orb.
“What the hell? WHAT THE HELL? WHY AM I TRAPPED?! WHEN DID I GET RED TATTOOS? Madeline, what the hell did you do????”
“You are trapped, Mr. BP. Please do not move for the sake of your safety. You don’t want to know what I've got in store for you,” I smirked. Heh, how do you feel now, Mr. Killer?
“WHAT THE ABSOLUTE SCANDALOUS JESUS HOLYFANS? Where the fuck did you learn how to draw a Binding Ritual?”
“Mommy, I can’t see! Did you do it? Is he caged? Can he get out now?”
“Asha, the circle is absolutely foolproof! After all those humming and flashing, it must have done something! Don’t you see—Oh, wait, honey, were you hurt? Oh, no, come here.”
Somehow, I’ve been subconsciously putting my hands on her eyes the whole time. Luckily, she stood far enough from the humming that it didn’t hurt her. I hugged her tightly, feeling her soft hair in my hands. There’s never a wrong time for hugs.
“Oh, wow. Would you look at that? A happy, functional family. But I’m sorry to inform you: I’m immortal! I can’t die! Your little binding spell won’t hurt me! And FYI, I can break out of here in no time!” He shouted while clawing and pouncing around the circle’s invisible walls.
“I’d like to see you try for the rest of eternity, Mr. BP. Actually, didn’t you come here for something?”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Shut up, Madeline. I’ll bake cookies out of you when I get out!”
“Oh~? You wanted a place to stay, right?”
“Motherfucke—No! I don’t! Not anymore!” He glared at me with eyes of raging red, sputtering flame from the pupils and ashes for the eyeliners. Geez, talk about anger issues.
“You can stay right here, y’know? In this corner of the dusty, rat-infested attic. For eternity,” I glared back at him. “I have the power. This is MY house. And I will tell you where to stay!”
“Ugghhh!!! YOU SEE THESE TEETH, WOMAN? THEY ARE THE LAST THINGS YOU WILL SEE AS I SHUT YOUR LIGHT OUT AND SWALLOW YOU WHOLE. I’LL PERSONALLY GIVE YOU A LIVING FUNERAL!”
“Oh, nooooo! You’re so scary! He’s so scary, right, Asha?”
“Yes, Mommy! Soooooo scary! Actually… Nah. More like he’s scared!”
He sprinted to the far end of the circle. Then, he took a running start, dived forward, and heaved his entire ten-feet-tall body into the invisible walls.
It didn’t work. But I appreciate the effort.
“FUCK, THAT HURT!”
“Alright, Mr. BP. Me and Asha will have dinner now! If you’re hungry, which I know you are, you can come down any time! Just break the invisible walls! So easy, right?”
“COME HERE, BITCH! I WILL TAKE YOUR EYES OUT, POP THEIR JUICE, AND DRINK IT WITH MARTINI! COME BAAAAACK!”
I took Asha’s hand and went downstairs. I know, I know. I shouldn’t keep my eyes off him. But, leaving him alone will drive home the point: He’s powerless in my house. Also, Mr. BP can’t function without food, which is why he passed out. So, I won’t give him any food.
We ended up having a nice dinner together over chicken noodles. I finished my bowl, while Asha was just playing with it. She liked the texture, maybe? Then, I watched TV with Asha. What were we watching? Dunno. I fell asleep halfway through. I think it was Super Bunny Man? But which episode it was, only God knows.
I took her to bed and kissed her on both cheeks, tugging her in and waving goodnight. She doesn’t have many toys, as I couldn’t afford them, so she’d squeeze her handmade Bunny Man doll made out of papier mache and dream away.
I sat on the kitchen table for a while after that, listing all the groceries I must buy tomorrow, along with other miscellaneous tasks. Gosh, the bags will be so heavy. I wonder if I could carry them all.
That was when I had a brilliant idea.
“What do you want, woman?” He sat in the far corner of the dark attic with his head against the wall.
“Awww… Are you pouting?”
“Shut up.”
“Say… Mr. BP. How strong are you?”
“Heh. What? Am I your sex slave now?”
“Excuse me! Refrain from using such language around my household, please!”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah…”
Well, let’s see how I can work this in my favour.
“Do you want to sleep on a bed? Or food?” I asked gently.
“Fuck off. I haven’t fallen so low as to deserve your pity.”
“Hmpth! I bet you do!”
“No, I don’t!”
“Yes, you do!”
“No!”
“Yes!”
“Okay, I’ll stop. Now, can you please leave the depressing prison that holds my dark, unhallowed, tainted, tortured form alone, please, Mrs. Balcom?”
“Wow, I didn’t know you had such a silver tongue! And those strong arms do complement your eloquence!” I pointed to his arms.
“What are you on about?” He turned around.
“You probably figured out, Mr. BP. But I’m such a weak, dainty little lady! I can’t handle the world, let alone take care of Asha. I need a big, strong warrior to protect me~” I put on the softest, most maiden-like voice I could muster.
“What—”
I didn’t let him finish. “Oh, but I have a big, strong warrior right here! Brooding all alone in the empty corner of his chamber! If only I could give him a bed, a cup of noodles, and a place to stay, then he would help me on my hellish journey of survival~!”
“What the 80s-drama-cartoon-anti-feminist-heroine is this?”
“I’ll let you stay here, Mr. BP, without a Binding Ritual. You can run free!” I said, offering a hand.
“REALLY?”
“On one condition. A contract, if you will.”
“OKAY! SURE! What is it?”
“I have the parchment paper right here. This one’s—”
He cut me off. “Nah, regular paper’s fine. I’m not picky.”
“I’m sorry, do you want to get out? And have food?”
“OH SHIT! SORRY, SORRY. Please continue!”
“This isn’t your regular contract, Mr. BP. This is a Blood Contract.” I held the paper up. I think parchment is needed to make this kind of contract, according to the Grimmoire.
“For real? Where did you learn that from? Reddit?”
“Okay, so. The terms are: You can have my soul and body…”
“Oh! So you do know what a Blood Contract contains. Colour me surprise—”
“Ahem! From now on unto eternity, you can have both my soul and mortal form,…”
“Uh-huh?”
“As long as you make me happy.”
He looked utterly confused. “What? What makes YOU happy?”
“Gardening, cooking, and… birthdays!”
“HOLY MOLY! RIGHT UP MY ALLEY!”
Hehehehe. Got him.
“Alright, then please sign your name with your, uh, blood. Wait, do you have blood?”
He opened his mouth, showing huge and wide rows of teeth. They were sharp. I had a bit of goosebumps; he could have used them on me. Then, he sank his fangs into his arms, and a blackish liquid dripped from the bite mark. I slid the paper inside the circle, slightly. He held the black fluid over the contract paper, dripping it down the bottom.
“That should be enough. Your turn.”
“Yes.” I took out a toothpick and nicked my finger slightly. It formed a small drop of blood that tumbled down the page and nestled its way into his black liquid. They swirled around. And I think the contract’s signed now?
As if by a divine command, the paper caught on fire, and it was brightly white. I instinctively dropped the contract on the ground, as it slowly hissed into ashes. Okay, NOW it’s officially signed.
Then, Mr. BP laughed. “HEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE… OH, FOOLISH MADELINE. YOU’VE GIVEN ME FULL AND TOTAL CONTROL OVER YOUR WORTHLESS MORTAL BEING! NOW, I DEMAND YOU TO TAKE ME OUT OF THIS BINDING!”
“Relax! I was going to.”
I splashed a few buckets of cold water around the floor. The blood slowly seeped into the wood, as if it had never been there. Well, what do you know? Cold water can wash away demonic rituals, too.
I splashed some more on Mr. BP, the red markings draining from his black coat. He stretched and yawned. Then, he immediately twisted his body around to glare at me.
“Y’know. I’m pretty hungry for some Madeline cookies…”
“No, you aren’t. Noodles, take it or leave it.”
“Nah. COME HERE BITC—”
“Oh, no! How scary! You’re scaring me! And making me UNHAPPY!”
“Wait, wha—”
His entire body flashed with blazing white markings. What do they do? Well, he can explain it to you.
“HOLY FUCK, WHY DOES IT BUUUUUUUUUUURN??????” He cried as the divine white flame engulfed him whole.
“You made me unhappy, Mr. BP. And as per the contract, you’ll be punished if you do!”
“FUUUUUUUCK YOU!”
“Oh no! That made me even MORE UNHAPPY!”
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”
“Yeah, served you right, demon. Now come downstairs, there’s some leftover noodles if you want.”
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”
“Was that a ‘no’? Okay, then! You can have some in the morning. Good night! Sweet dreams!”
“Hoooo...HAAAaa... Hooo… Haaaaa… MADELINEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”